


Do Right

by Evedawalrus



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: M/M, Shattered Glass, Suggestive Themes, no there's no [hugging] but sg minimus's basic existence is rated T for Vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23644816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evedawalrus/pseuds/Evedawalrus
Summary: SG Minimus may abhor work of any kind, butperformingis another thing entirely.(Megatron visits the bar at which Minimus puts on a show, and to the surprise of nobody, is subsequently dazzled.)
Relationships: Megatron/Minimus Ambus, SG Megatron/SG Minimus Ambus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Do Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Interstellar_Child](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interstellar_Child/gifts).



> For Beth!!!! ur writing is amazing and so are u!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

“Five minutes to curtains, Ambus!”

Minimus didn’t turn from the mirror to respond to the stagehand, too engaged in making the perfect ombre above his optics. He waved a hand to dismiss them, saying, “Of course, of course! But one can’t rush art, darling...” 

The stagehand raised an eyebrow at him, but when no further response came from the pink bot, they rolled their optics and shut the door. Minimus sighed dramatically, closing his eyeshadow box with a clap. “No respect for presentation, really! All this work,” he took out a tube of lipstick and began applying it, “and they pay me pennies!” 

He paused, leaning back from the mirror with lips half-painted. “Well. They don’t pay me at all though, do they?” He chuckled to himself, finishing his makeup before turning to the wardrobe. “Let’s see... what should I treat Swindle’s lovely customers to tonight?” 

Perhaps something pink? ...No, that’d be a bit too close to his paintjob (and a bit too unnerving for bots who saw spilled energon on a near-daily basis). Maybe a little yellow number, to compliment his optics? Or... 

Minimus grinned, pushing aside the rest of the hangers as his optics lit upon the perfect outfit. It was a bit simple, yes—but who said simplicity was a bad thing? Besides, it was one of Megatron’s favorites. Oh yes. This would be just right for tonight. 

The stagehand stuck their head in again, calling, “One minute til curtains, Ambus! You better hurry up or you’ll be late!” 

Over the top of the folding screen, a long-nailed hand waved them away. “Certainly, darling! I’ll be out in just a moment—though while you’re here, would you mind putting two cubes on the table for when I’m done? My thanks!” 

The stagehand blinked at the folding screen, then shut the door and sighed. Trudging off to get two cubes of energon, they muttered, “Why does he need a screen anyways? S’ not like we even wear anything...”

Back inside the dressing room, Minimus met his own gaze in the mirror and smiled. 

“Showtime.”

* * *

  
Megatron blinked as his optics adjusted to the dim lighting of the bar. It was fairly crowded inside—groups of both Autobots and Decepticons milling about, some staying divided by faction, but others, slightly buzzed on engex, openly mixing with bots they normally would be ordered to kill on sight. Megatron caught sight of two such individuals—one of whom he thought might just be Octane, perhaps?—in the process of- er- committing some kind of treason in a corner booth. He blushed and hurriedly turned away. 

Though he was doing his level best to make himself small and unnoticeable, it was quite hard to do so when one has fluorescent blue wings. Several Decepticons lit up upon seeing him and gave him a welcoming wave, while several Autobots either blanched or gained a worryingly murder-y look.

Megatron only nodded a greeting to them—in any other circumstance, he would be wary of being in close proximity to so many Autobots, but he was in Swindle’s bar, and Swindle prohibited any kind of hostility. Though he was a remarkably trusting bot, he was also smart enough to have his patrons go through a checkpoint where all weapons had to be confiscated. Megatron had passed through it himself, giving a friendly smile to Vortex as he handed his shoulder cannons and sidearm. 

Now, the Autobots watching Megatron warily were reminded of those rules when Swindle appeared at their table with a tray of drinks. All aggression was forgotten after a few sips of engex, and Swindle made his way to Megatron’s side. “Hiya Megatron! What brings you to my humble bar?”

Megatron’s smile turned a bit sheepish. “Well- I heard there was a show tonight.” 

Realization lit up in Swindle’s expression. “Oh! Of course! Well then, you’ll want a front row seat. It’s about to start, too!” He ushered Megatron to a small table with one chair that was oddly empty near the edge of the stage, and then hurried off with a promise to get him a drink. 

No sooner than he left, a spotlight flashed onto the stage. The raucous atmosphere died down into murmurs as the overhead lights dimmed, leaving all focus on the gently swaying curtains at the back of the stage. 

“Welcome, everyone! Thank you for coming to Swindle’s, the best place to eat, drink, and relax this side of the Rust Sea!” Brawl’s voice boomed over the speakers, causing many patrons to flinch before he was thankfully turned down. “We have a lovely show for you tonight—though really, ‘lovely’ doesn’t even come close to describing him! Please give a warm hand to Minimus Ambus!”

Then, the bar was silent. Megatron’s gaze flickered around—nearly every bot and con was staring intently at the circle of light on the curtains. Even the servers had paused.

Out of the anticipatory quiet, a soft voice started to croon. A leg stepped out from behind the curtain—long, pink, and wearing rose-colored stilettos.

“ _You had plenty money in nineteen-twenty-two,_ ” 

Minimus Ambus slipped into the spotlight, and Megatron’s mouth went dry. 

A long, slinky dress, deep red and shimmering like a field of sparks with every sway of his hips—which it hugged quite comfortably—drew whistles and cheers from the audience. Minimus only flashed a smile at them past blood-red lips. 

“ _-Why don’t you do right?_ ” He asked with doleful, half-lidded optics as he strutted to the edge of the stage, hands on his hips. Looking down at a Decepticon who seemed to have forgotten where he was and didn’t particularly care, he placed the toe of his stiletto on the bot’s chest and shoved him back into his chair. “ _Like some other men do..._ ”

Megatron was shaken from his stupor by a drink being set down in front of him. Swindle stood next to the table, his optics on Minimus, but he spoke to Megatron in a hushed voice. “Really something, isn’t he?”

Megatron blinked. “Ah- yes- yes he... he is...”

Swindle hid a giggle behind a hand, then gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You can pay for the drink later—I wouldn’t want to interrupt the performance.” He leaned in for a second to whisper with a grin, “and Megs? Try to keep the hearts out of your optics.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Swindle stifled a smile as Megatron nodded dumbly. Well, at least he had tried—but how could the grey con hear anything when his stunning partner was stepping towards him in stilettos? Swindle stepped to the side, holding out a hand for Minimus to take as he floated from the stage to an empty chair, then to the floor. 

“ _Get out of here,_ ” he crooned, sitting on the table and leaning into Megatron’s face. One of his hands, covered by a long black glove, cupped his cheek and then drew a claw down the curve of his chin, drawing Megatron forward with it. Their faces drew so close only Megatron could see the fond little smile Minimus had. Then, the hand that had brought him in planted itself over his mouth, pushing him back with a surprised noise. 

“ _Get me some money too..._ ”

The deep twanging of the bass could have easily replaced Megatron’s spark beat. 

Minimus, who had begun his performance with a pout on his face—he was smiling, now. He sat on the edge of the stage and swung his legs up, eliciting quite a few whistles from the more intoxicated patrons, then turned to lean over Megatron once more. “ _Why don’t you do right? Like some other men-"_

Megatron felt a tug at his collar, and suddenly he had been lifted out of his chair. For a very long second, Minimus held him there, teeth glinting in the spotlight. 

“.. _do_...”

Then, drawing out the note, he let go and rose back up until Megatron couldn’t see him anymore for the glare of the lights. The music ended with a crash, and the curtains closed.

Immediately a raucous applause rose up from the audience, but Megatron could only stand there, dumbfounded. 

Next to him, someone cleared their throat. Megatron almost squeaked before realizing it was only Swindle, giving him an expectant look. “Would you like to,” his optics glanced at the door leading backstage, “take the back way out?”

Megatron followed his gaze and nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you again, Swindle.”

Swindle smiled, tipped his head, and swept away to serve his adoring patrons. Megatron took a moment to be thankful that Minimus had chosen an establishment run by such a fair and upstanding mech, and went to the back door. It was located right next to the bar, where two employees were having a fairly spirited conversation. Megatron, not wanting to eavesdrop, was halfway through the door before something caught his ear. 

“I swear, next time he’ll be askin’ for magnesium n’ mercury bites, but only the green ones, and in a crystal bowl, _darlin’_!” The bot batted their nonexistent eyelashes. As their companion chuckled at the impression, they slouched onto the counter, rolling their eyes. “Yeesh.”

Megatron paused. He knew exactly who that bot was talking about, and it put a sour taste in his mouth. Turning on his heel, he tried to make himself un-intimidating as possible as he walked up to the pair and interrupted them with an “Excuse me?”  
The stagehand bot looked to him with an annoyed expression that disappeared the second they realized they had to look up a fair distance to see this mech’s face. “Oh! Hello sir – I’m afraid I’m off duty at the moment, but my friend here might be able to help you!” 

(The bot’s friend shot them a “ _you are going to regret this_ ” look).

“Actually, I just wanted to say, um- while I understand Minimus Ambus may seem a bit odd or demanding at first glance, he really is a wonderful mech. He always remembers to thank you for your work, doesn’t he?”

The stagehand stared at him, looking a bit shell-shocked.

“Anyways- you don’t have to love him, but just- keep an open mind, if you can. He really means the best.” With that, he nodded and slipped through the backstage door. 

After a few seconds, the stagehand’s friend said, “....Was that the. Uh. Leader of the Decepticons?” 

“Ahahahah. Yeah. I’m gonna go die in the corner, I think.”

* * *

Megatron easily found Minimus’s door – it was the only one with pink gemstones around its nameplate. He knocked once, and heard a muffled, “If that’s who I think it is, then come in!”

Inside, he found Minimus in the process of shedding his dress, though it seemed he was having a bit of trouble with the zipper. “Darling, do you think you could help me out of this? I adore how I look in it of course, but it’s- ergh- quite stifling.” 

Megatron blushed but immediately went to assist him. 

Minimus sighed once he was free, shrugging on a white robe and falling back into a chair. He waved at Megatron to sit down next to him and handed him a cube of engex. “So!” he exclaimed after a sip of his own drink. “How did you like my performance? Did I satisfy?” 

The expression on Minimus’s face, already preening in preparation for praise but at the same time barely hiding a giddy smile – Megatron felt like his spark might burst. 

“It was stunning, Minimus.” Setting down his drink, Megatron took Minimus’s hand and gently kissed it, reveling in the light blush that colored his cheeks at the unexpected affection. “But then again, when are you not stunning?” 

Minimus stared at him with wide optics. Then he muttered, “Oh you absolute _sap_ ,” and pulled him down into a searing kiss. 

Megatron sighed, closing his optics. Perhaps others could enjoy Minimus’s shows night after night – but him? He was perfectly content just like this.

**Author's Note:**

> did i steal the dress and song from jessica rabbit? yes.
> 
> am i ashamed of this? no.
> 
> am i happy that i got to watch hot lady sing many times so i could write this? 
> 
> yes


End file.
